


Property Of

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Living Together, M/M, Marking, Tattoos, with Markers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You could sign me. I’d have your autograph everywhere I went. Or you could leave a message. If lost, please return to Kurt Hummel."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Property Of

**Author's Note:**

> **blametheleather prompted:** kurt being all judgey about something like a tattoo someone gets and blaine starts to tease him by telling him it’s a wonderful idea and does something ridiculous like grabs a marker and draws on himself and walks around flexing and showing off and kurt’s just like wow i’m dating a dumbbutt wow

"Rachel got a tattoo."

Blaine looks up from the novel he’s reading for class ( _Robinson Crusoe_ ), blinking over the pages at Kurt, where he’s yanking his boots off with a bit more force than necessary by the door.

"Uh…" Blaine presses his bookmark in between the pages and sets the book aside, sitting up. He knows that tone of voice—and the rather violent way of undressing—and obviously Kurt is upset about something. Blaine is aware that it’s quite a delicate situation, so he sits patiently and chooses his words carefully. “When did that happen?" He hedges, watching as Kurt pulls a hanger from the hall closet.

"Last night."

Blaine waits, and, when Kurt doesn’t say anything further, decides to prompt him a little more.

"What did she get?"

It’s then that Kurt storms into the living room, arms crossed, and Blaine knows there’s going to be a rant before Kurt even opens his mouth.

“ _Stars_. Of course she got  _stars_ , that is such a  _Rachel_  thing to do, her and her fucking stars. There’s a cluster of three of them, right at the top of her spine, three little  _black star outlines_ —she couldn’t get gold, because color  _fades_ , and tattoos are  _forever_ , and all of those people told her not to do gold. She’s Rachel Berry!  _Gold_  stars are her _thing_ , she can’t just do  _stars_ , that is just so juvenile and cliché, and of course she would make such a stupid mistake. She was drunk, she even told me, drunk and went out and  _got a tattoo_ , and she doesn’t even  _regret_  it! Even though it’s stupid! I always tell her not to do something stupid, and then she just goes ahead and does it anyways, and in five years she is going to ask me why I ever let her get those tacky little, 13-year-old girl  _stars_ , and I’ll say, it’s not my fault, Rachel! You decided not to invite me!"

And there it is. Kurt’s breath is heaving out of him, and with each exhale, the fight drains from his body until his shoulders are slumping forward. Blaine holds open his arms, and Kurt comes to curl into them immediately, silent the whole time.

"She’s your best friend. It’s okay for you to be upset—"

"I’m not upset," Kurt bites out, hiding his face in the curve of Blaine’s neck. “Tattoos are just  _stupid_."

"Really?" Blaine asks, lifting an eyebrow, and Kurt nods, jerkily.

"Yes. Why would anyone want to mar their skin like that on a permanent basis? And they can get discolored and gross looking, and if your skin stretches or shrinks, it gets all  _distorted_ —" Kurt just sneers at the idea of it, and Blaine rolls his eyes fondly (when Kurt definitely can’t see him do it).

"I don’t know, I think they can be tasteful."

"I think they’re stupid. I mean, why would anyone want to put something so permanent on their body?"

"Because it means something to them?"

"Then embroider it on a pillow or something!"

Blaine laughs, and Kurt lifts his head to glare at his boyfriend.

"Well, baby," Blaine finally says, laughter still in his voice. “Sometimes people just make mistakes."

“ _Stupid_  mistakes."

"Or being drunk and forgetting to call their best friend before making a possible mistake." Blaine pushes some hair out of Kurt’s face, and smiles softly as Kurt burrows into him. “But you know what?" Kurt makes a muffled noise of acknowledgement into Blaine’s shirt. “I think that best friend can show her how to cover it with make-up."

Kurt chuckles then, body relaxing, and Blaine rubs his back.

"I probably shouldn’t have yelled at her, huh?" Kurt asks, meekly, and Blaine hums thoughtfully. “She  _is_  an adult, and I don’t get to decide what she does with her life."

"Aw, that’s so grown up of you."

Kurt pokes him sharply in the side, and Blaine yelps in surprise.

"…do you really hate tattoos that much?" Blaine turns his head to get a better look at Kurt, voice breaking through a calm silence that had settled over them. Kurt shrugs a shoulder.

"Maybe not as vehemently as I thought I did, but I certainly don’t see the  _appeal_  of getting one."

"What if I got a tattoo?" Blaine isn’t so sure about that. He’s not exactly afraid of needles—he can get blood drawn, and have shots, and be totally fine—but the idea of a needle working into his skin like that? It makes him want to shudder.

"You wouldn’t."

"You are so bad at the what if game," Blaine mumbles, shuffling until he’s propped up on his knees and Kurt is frowning at him for disrupting their cuddling. “What if I  _did_."

"Well, I guess it would depend on the  _what_  and the  _where_ —"

"What if I got your name?"

"Oh, please do  _not_."

Blaine is grinning now, but Kurt looks thoroughly unamused, and then Blaine gets an idea. He looks over towards the coffee table, where his school supplies are spread out, and he quickly grabs the Sharpie.

"You could sign me. I’d have your autograph everywhere I went. Or you could leave a message.  _If lost, please return to Kurt Hummel_." Blaine uncaps the lid of the Sharpie with his teeth, and then presses it to the inside of his left forearm.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asks in alarm, as Blaine writes in his own curling script, _Property of Kurt Hummel_. “Oh my goodness."

"So no name, then?"

"I cannot  _believe_  you just did that."

"Maybe a flower."

Kurt looks up from the black letters standing out against Blaine’s skin, blinking rapidly and watching as Blaine hikes his shirt sleeve up to his shoulder.

"Wha—"

"Like a daisy. I love daisies."

"They’re your favorite," Kurt says, in a bit of a daze, and watches as Blaine draws a rather horrible looking daisy on his arm. “Why are you doing this?"

"I don’t really know." Blaine grins at him, and Kurt’s gaze turns affectionate.

"You are the biggest—" Kurt just stops, because there isn’t really a word for it, but Blaine knows what he means.

"Hey, I’m your property." Blaine waves his arm around to make a point.

"Oh my  _god_ , I would never let you—ack!" Kurt flops on his back against the couch and suddenly has a lapful of Blaine, who is pinning his arms down. “Get off!" Kurt laughs, but then he stops as he sees Blaine bringing the marker towards his skin. “Blaine Devon Anderson, if you so much as put a dot of Sharpie on my skin, I will—BLAINE!"

He tries to wiggle but Blaine keeps him still with his knees, holding his wrist down as well as he can and still trying to draw. Kurt turns his head, glaring, mouth open to speak, but the words must die as Blaine draws a small, careful heart on the inside of Kurt’s wrist.

"Was that really so bad?" Blaine asks, smiling softly and touching the tip of his nose to Kurt’s.

Kurt kisses him.


End file.
